


Hashtags

by abrandnewheart



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Original Character(s), Side Victuuri, Unrequited Love, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-09-15 18:50:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9251090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abrandnewheart/pseuds/abrandnewheart
Summary: It all begins shortly after Yuri’s eighteenth birthday, with an instagram photo. It’s a selfie with his arm around another boy that seems to be about his age. He checks the tags. Maybe it’s an old friend, or a new rinkmate or-#boyfriendOtabek thinks he might be sick.





	

It all begins shortly after Yuri’s eighteenth birthday, with an instagram photo. It’s a selfie with his arm around another boy that seems to be about his age. He checks the tags. Maybe it’s an old friend, or a new rinkmate or-

**_#boyfriend_ **

Otabek thinks he might be sick.

He swallows the unpleasant feeling in his throat, flicking through the other photos Yuri’s uploaded recently. He doesn’t stay up to date with these things. How long has this been going on? How long had Yuri had a boyfriend for? Yuri hadn’t mentioned seeing anyone, and they talked all the time.

The other boy had been in every photo that week. All of them captioned the same way, or at least similarly.

**#newboyf #boyf #lookathisfaceitsadorable**

When had this happened? How had it happened? Yuri hadn’t mentioned anyone when Otabek had come to Saint Petersburg for his birthday only a few short weeks ago. No-one he was seeing, no-one he was interested in, and so Otabek had, naively, assumed he was fine to delay his confession a while longer. At first he hadn’t wanted to say anything because he was worried people might think it strange, Yuri being seventeen and himself being twenty. Then, he hadn’t wanted to, because it was Yuri’s birthday, and he wasn’t going to ruin Yuri’s eighteenth birthday with something selfish, if it wasn’t returned.

And now he wouldn’t get a chance at all.

He hadn’t expected any of his feelings to be returned, anyway, but knowing that they wouldn’t be, might not _ever_ be was a special kind of disappointment.

He looks at one more photo. One of himself and Yuri.

He closes the app and hopes that maybe the relationship wouldn’t last long once he sees the tags.

**#bestfriend**

 

~

 

October comes sooner than expected. A decent chunk of the time between Yuri’s announcement and October is the off-season. It’s not that they stop practicing, more just ‘there’s time to get new routines learned and maybe take a short break’. Last year, Otabek went to Russia to visit Yuri. This year he doesn’t bother, though he gets asked if he wants to by both Yuri _and_ Mila. Instead he spends his days cooped up in Almaty in a too-hot flat with plants for company and he spends his time reading.

Otabek’s birthday rolls around. His twenty-first, to be exact. A big deal, in some places, though not too big of a deal with his family. Last year, he paid for Yuri to come visit him in Almaty for a few days. They’d had a lot of fun, then. Yuri had stayed in his house and they’d gotten to spend four whole days in each other’s company.

Otabek decides not to offer this year. He very much doubts that it would be as easy as last year, and the idea of Yuri being in his flat but talking about his boyfriend, even vaguely, even once, sends shivers down Otabek’s spine.

Yuri wishes him a happy birthday anyway, and sends a parcel, containing a new scarf, not entirely dissimilar to the one he always like to wear when he goes on his bike. There’s a card in the parcel, too.

The card was signed, (with love), from Yuri and Alexei.

Otabek places it on shelf, out of sight, behind the others.

Otabek spends his birthday with his mother instead, this year. It’s nice. Just nice. They go out for dinner and his mother has a little too much to drink, and she starts asking when he’s going to bring a nice girl home. He doesn’t have the heart to tell her.

When he gets home, he finds that he’s been tagged in a photograph on instagram. Odd, since he was fairly certain no-one had taken any photos. He opens the app, and finds that it’s a photo from last year. Yuri had been insistent on taking dozens of them.

**_#throwback #bestfriend #almaty_ **

 

~

 

It’s funny how relationships can change people. Yuri never used to smile much in public, except for the rare occasions Otabek was able to do or say something that made him. But now, now he smiled all the time, whether Otabek was there or not. His smiles weren’t special, any more, no longer reserved for what was once his best friend.

Yuri smiled a lot more, now. It would be nice, if it weren’t for the slow turning of the knife in Otabek’s stomach every time it was directed to someone more important than he was.

He never used to smile much in photographs, either. He did that more often, too.

**_#happy #boyfriend._ **

 

~

 

The Grand Prix final approaches too quickly. Otabek hasn’t competed against Yuri this season yet; their assigned qualifying tournaments being in different places. It’s not unusual for things like this to happen, though Otabek has gotten used to competing against him at least once before the finale.

He doesn’t get to see Yuri much before the competition actually starts - and from the looks of things on instagram, Alexei is with him constantly anyway, so Otabek isn’t sure he’d want to.

Otabek is third to perform. He likes being in the middle. There’s not the same pressure as going first and setting a benchmark, and equally there’s no pressure on being at the end and knowing the scores to beat. Yuri runs to the rink before he starts, hair all scraped back into an adorable little bun on the top of his head.

“Otabek! Davai!”

Otabek gives a thumbs up in return.

His routine is solid. He lands all his jumps cleanly, and it certainly feels like it all flows well. He steps off the ice, and finds a new personal best waiting for him. It puts him in first place, at least for now. An excellent start to the competition, needless to say.

He answers the few questions that the reporters have for him, and ethen excuses himself. He has no time to answer questions when his best friend is seconds away from starting his routine.

“Yuri, davai!”

Otabek is not the only one who shouts encouragement from the sidelines. He looks over, bewildered, trying to figure out who else dares --

Viktor and Katsuki are there, though they've kept themselves quiet. Otabek recognises the other man, but can't place a name, at least not immediately.

Otabek notices the person looking back at him, too. He still can't figure it out. They're not a skater, they don't have the look of one, so where….

Oh.

Oh, no. He’s here? Yuri hadn't said anything about him coming along, and they'd been trash-talking each other for weeks now, wishing each other luck, talking about maybe getting dinner together when the competition was over…

Not once had Yuri ever mentioned that he was coming.

Otabek ignores him for the time being, instead looking to Yuri, on the ice.

The music starts, and the change is apparent. Yuri likes to act like he’s all sharp edges and harsh lines, at least towards people who don't know him well. Good friends and the ice are allowed the softer version. Now is no exception.

Yuri’s theme this year is 'new beginnings’. Otabek’s is 'missed chances’. He doesn't like to linger on the idea that it sums up their relationship perfectly.

Yuri’s routine is wonderful. He lands almost everything - he puts his hand down during his quad toe-triple toe combination, but aside from that, he is perfect. It's going to be a high score. Not as high as his record, but then who else would ever expect to get near that kind of score anyway?

He leaves the ice promptly when he's done. He smiles in Otabek’s direction, and Otabek can feel his chest tighten, something warm spreading through him.

It turns to ice, colder than the rink, as he watches Yuri realise who else is there, waiting. And Yuri runs to him, at least as well as he can with his blade guards on.

He doesn't mean to watch. He doesn't! It was just one of those car crash scenes where he can't help but look because it’s painful and intriguing all at once. He does not mean to see Yuris fingers in that other’s man's hair. He does not mean to look at Alexei’s hands around Yuri’s waist. He does not mean, and does not want, to see them kissing in the kiss and cry.

Otabek declines the offer of dinner with the two of them that evening. He does not miss Yuri’s new photo upload.

**_#dinner #boyfriend_**

Yuri is first to perform his free skate the next day. Otabek shouts the usual ‘davai!’ from the side of the rink before Yuri begins, though he has to disappear briefly to finish warming up. He’s next to perform after all, and as much as he’d like to watch Yuri, he can’t really afford to.

He returns to the rink as Yuri exits, and he waits for the usual ‘davai’ that follows his entry to the rink.

It doesn’t come.

Otabek spends a moment extra gliding over the ice. He has a few precious moments left before he has to take his starting position--

He wishes he hadn’t looked to the sidelines. Anything would be better than this. Yuri forgetting to wish him luck would be better. Yuri _intentionally_ not wishing him luck would be better.

Anything, _anything_ other than this.

The very last thing Otabek had expected to see today was his best friend getting proposed to mere seconds after he’d stepped off of the ice having performed a killer free skate.

There’s no time to think about it now, because he has to get into position, and he does, but then the music’s started and he’s still distracted by what’s going on elsewhere, and he can’t quite tear his eyes away from what’s happening over in the kiss and cry.

And now he’s late into the routine, and he’s already missed a hefty chunk of his opening steps, and--

He can do this, he’s fine. He will be fine. He has enough elements in the rest of his routine to make up for it. He can change one of the combinations in the first half to a single, and add it back in in the latter half. It’ll be fine!

The first jump’s just a triple axel, his favourite thing--

He falls, hard, and he’d worried he might have actually hurt his shoulder seriously, though he picks himself up and carries on. What he wants to do is just lie on the ice and try to cool the blood that feels like it’s boiling, but he can’t. He has too much at stake.

He falls or steps out of nearly every jump he attempts, including both of his signature triple axels and two of the quads he’d put in. His combinations turn into singles. He is off-rhythm with his step sequences, and his spins are travelling rather than staying planted in one spot.

He is a mess, and he knows it, but he keeps going, because even when there is little left to fight for, Otabek will keep on fighting. He does not give up that easily.

The crowd is quiet when he is finished. He does not wave to them. He does not look up from his boots for even a second. He does not listen to a word his coach says. He does not stop to sit and wait for the points. He doesn’t answer a single question the reporters throw at him.

But most importantly, he doesn’t pay any attention to Yuri Plisetsky, even when he comes running.

He does not go to the banquet that night. He does not get tagged in photos, obviously, but he watches everyone else upload them as they are taken.

**_#GPF #dancing #singing #skating #toomuchtodrinklmao_ **

**_#fiancé._ **

 

\--

 

Otabek considers not answering the phone at all when he sees Yuri’s name, but he can’t bring himself not to. Yuri doesn’t call unless it’s of vital importance, so he picks it up and takes a deep breath as he answers.

“What do you want?” It’s not angry, not even a little bit annoyed. It’s just how he and Yuri have come to greet each other over the years.

“I have something to ask.” Yuri almost sounds worried. Otabek knows better though; if he was actually worried about something he’d have prefaced this entire conversation with a text.

“What is it?”

“Would you be my best man? For the wedding?”

There’s a sudden ringing in his ears, and for a few moments, it’s like everything is in slow motion.

This is real. This is happening. Yuri is getting married. Yuri is in love with someone and it’s not him, and it never _will_ be him.

His mouth is dry, and he opens his mouth to say something, _anything,_ but the words don’t come out, he can’t make his lips form words no matter how hard he tries.

 _I love you,_ is what he wants to say. He wants to scream it at the top of his lungs.   _I love you. I don’t want to go to your wedding at all._

Instead, Yuri talks again. “Beka, are you still there? You haven’t said anything. I don’t know if you were, like, expecting this or not, but… you’re my best friend and I’d really like it if you did. Y’know. Come and help me with all this stuff.”

“I’m here,” He breathes, though it’s raspy and sore and it’s like he’s drowning, drowning, not quite able to get enough air into his lungs. He is suffocating and there’s nothing he can do about it. “I’ll do it.”

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. Shut up.” He’s not fine, but throwing this kind of language around provides the gentle facade that he is. Yuri probably won’t question it at all.

“Alright, alright. If you say so. We’re thinking June of next year. There shouldn’t be any competitions going on, keeps everyone free that way..”

“Great.” It makes sense, it does, but Otabek so dearly doesn’t want it to. He does not want to be subjected to another minute of this torment. It’s still hard to breathe, though it’s getting easier. It has to get better, for if he cannot learn to keep breathing when things are this bad then he’s surely going to die, for it’s never going to get any easier.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Curse him. Curse Yuri and his constant seeing through Otabek’s best efforts to conceal things. Curse him a hundred times over. Curse him for being able to hear the strained breathing from the other end of the line.

“I’m fine, Yura. Promise. Just not feeling great.”

“You should get some sleep.”

“I will. Thanks.”

He hangs up the phone as the first tear starts to fall.

He doesn’t sleep much that night. He spends his hours reminiscing about how things used to be, how things could have been.

Yuri uploads an old photo of the two of them.

**_#throwback #bestman #bestfriend_ **

 

~

 

The next few months bring more organising than Otabek had ever expected. There are the obvious things, like finding suitable suits for Yuri and himself, finding a venue, finding a DJ for the evening reception, and sorting out invitations. There are smaller things too, though, like picking the table centerpieces, and sorting out who is going to sit where for the meal, and selecting a song for the couple to dance to. Yuri and Alexei have very different opinions on songs. Yuri wants to break just about every tradition there is and not bother with a first dance at all, or, if he must, then something heavy and loud and that will make his grandfather shake his head. Alexei, rather more traditional, wants a slow dance.

Otabek is sure that if it were him, he’d have given in to Yuri’s whims much more easily.

It would be so much easier to hate Alexei, Otabek realises, if he wasn’t a nice person. That is one of the harder things to cope with. Otabek would find it so much easier to dislike him if he was rude, or anything but amazing to Yuri, or if he even had something inherently dislikable about him, like an overly-inflated ego. Instead, he is polite, and charming, and he is kind to Yuri though firm when he has to be. He doesn’t take or fall victim to any of Yuri’s sass, but he plays along, instead.

He has dark hair, a bike, and a penchant for leather jackets.

Those are the things that bother Otabek the most, along with the comments on the photos Yuri takes of them when they’re planning things, that question if they’re related.

The photos get tagged the same way every time. Otabek knows which tag refers to him and it hurts more each time he sees it.

**_#fiancé #bestfriend_ **

 

~

 

The day of the wedding comes all too soon. The sun is shining, and it’s warm out, but not uncomfortably so, even with the suits they have to wear. It is perfect for an outdoor wedding, and everything is so very picturesque. The manor stands tall in the background, the seats for the guests are laid out in the gardens, and the archway for where the couple will stand during the ceremony is positively radiant, covered in sprawling vines and roses. Otabek doesn’t think he could picture anything better for a wedding.

The flowers have been delivered. The cake - a finished product of a lovely little bakery - is waiting in the ballroom. The music has been chosen. Which traditions to keep, and those they wanted to ignore were settled on weeks ago.

Everything is ready, in no small part thanks to Otabek. He is the one Yuri vented to when things weren’t going to plan. He is the one who accompanied Yuri on at least half of the visits to vendors when decisions needed to be made. He had organised _more_ than a little bit of the day.

All he ever wanted, all he wants, is to see Yuri happy.

As it turns out, however, Yuri is not happy. Otabek had spent the last half hour fielding phone calls from caterers and guests and generally making sure that the morning itself was going to run smoothly, so that Yuri doesn’t have to. Yuri and Alexei are probably stressed enough without fretting over small details, so Otabek deals with the small things for them.

He and Yuri are finishing their last minute preparations. There’s a photographer around, to capture photos of times like this, but he’s very good at blending into the background and making himself inconspicuous while he works.

Otabek braids Yuri’s hair on one side, and pulls it all into a ponytail low on his neck. Yuri inspects it, in the mirror, and nods. He isn’t talking much this morning. He hasn’t eaten breakfast, or had anything to drink, though Otabek does make sure to keep offering in case he changes his mind.

“It’s time,” Otabek says after a glance to the clock on the wall. Time for Yuri to get married. Time for Otabek to well and truly lose even the last glimmer of a chance. Time to face the future.

They head to the stairs that lead out into the foyer together. Yuri takes Otabek’s hand and squeezes his fingers as they descend. If it weren’t for everything else going on, Otabek might almost be able to pretend that it was an act of romance and not one silently asking for support.  

“I’m scared,” Yuri’s voice is so quiet that Otabek isn’t even sure he’s heard it properly.

“What of?” Otabek asks, giving Yuri’s fingers the smallest of squeezes. They’re at the bottom of the stairs. The guests are just outside, just around the corner. They are so close to this happening or not happening at all.

“Everything. I don’t want things to change too much.” It’s unusual for Yuri to be this honest. Most of the time it only happens when he’s feeling particularly vulnerable. “I don’t want to go out there and have people looking at me.”

“People always look at you.” Otabek hasn’t stopped looking at him since they met. “It’s what you do for a living.”

“This is different,” Yuri is insistent. “I’m not going out there to put on a show. This is my personal life.”

“Stage fright is normal.” Otabek guides him to the antique sofa against the wall. “You love him, don’t you?”

It pains Otabek to ask. The knife in his stomach is back, except it’s not a knife, it’s a fucking trident, and each prong is carefully aimed where it will hurt him most.

“I do. I love him so much.” It twists, dragging Otabek’s heart into his throat. He can feel it throbbing, blocking and unblocking his airways so he can’t quite catch his breath.

“Then get out there,” He breathes, “and show him how much, Yura.”

Yuri nods, and gets unsteadily to his feet again. He does not relinquish his hold on Otabek’s hand until they reach the door that will lead them outside. It’s been set up beautifully; the guests have entered via a central aisle, and they’re sitting in front of the rose archway. There are two aisles off to either side, and Otabek has it all planned so that the flower girl and ringbearer (the Katsuki-Nikiforov’s daughter and son, respectively) will walk beside himself and Alexei’s brother (Ivan), meet in front of the arches, and then the happy couple will follow, one from either side. They’ll enter separately, as individuals, and leave together, as a set. It should all go smoothly. They’ve practiced.

There is a special kind of pain in Otabek’s chest. There isn’t much time left.

Yuuri is waiting for them, with Fumie. Presumably, then, Viktor is at the other side with Dmitri. They don’t say much, though Otabek takes Fumie’s hand and nods at Yuuri, who scampers off to take his seat amongst the crowd. Otabek peers through the window, and he can see Viktor joining him.

It is time.

Yuri still has that uncertain look on his face. This is no time for uncertainty, not when Yuri has spent his whole life being confident, bordering on arrogant. Otabek drops Fumie’s hand, only for a moment or two, and marches the three steps between him and Yuri. “You are going to be fine,” he insists, voice firm.

“I don’t know-”

Otabek’s palms find the sides of Yuri’s face, and he pulls Yuri in, to press the lightest of pecks to his forehead. It’s a pale, weak imitation of what he really wants. He can’t have that, now, he never can. This will have to suffice. “You are going to be fine, Yura. I have faith.” Otabek’s voice is much stronger than he feels.

“How do you know?”

“Because it’s you. And if Yuri Plisetsky isn’t going to be okay, what chance do the rest of us have?”

Otabek considers the matter settled, and takes Fumie’s hand again. She’s adorable, all dressed up in a pretty white dress with an orange bow around her waist, and holding a small bouquet of orange tiger lilies in her free hand. She has another one in her hair. Everyone is perfect. Everything is perfect.

Everything except the ache that refuses to budge from the home it has made in Otabek’s chest.

He cues the music - Pachelbel’s Canon - and nods at Alexei’s brother and Dmitri across the garden, and the four of them make their way in. It is happening. There is no turning back now.

They time it well, all four of them arriving in front of the archway right at the same time.

The kids take a seat in the front row. Otabek and Ivan must stand and wait. The officiant is already there.

Yuri steps out on cue, matched on the other side by his fiancé. Yuri is beautiful, with the sun glinting off of his hair and a nervous, but still happy, smile on his face.

Otabek would give anything to make that smile for him.

Soon enough, Yuri and Alexei are together, at the front, and they hold each other’s hands..

Otabek drowns most of the service out. He’s not bad at zoning out when things get uncomfortable, or he just doesn’t want to hear it. This is both, to an extreme he hasn’t felt before. If a tear slips out, he doesn’t hide it. He can pretend later that it was just because he was happy. He’ll tell everyone who’ll listen how happy he is for his best friend and pretend his heart doesn’t break slightly more each time he says it.

The ceremony is too fast. Otabek is zoned out for most, if not all of it, and before he knows what’s happening they’re saying vows. He wants to walk off, very badly wants to object to them getting married at all, but he doesn’t. He keeps quiet. He owes Yuri that much.

Even when there is nothing left to fight for, Otabek will keep on fighting. Yuri had told him he was stupid once, for continuing on when there was nothing left to fight or stay strong for. They’d been playing video games. Sometimes Otabek thinks Yuri was right.

His ears ring as he hears the ‘I do’s. He blinks, hard, multiple times as the rings get put on fingers. He tries to ignore the light in Yuri’s smile, in his eyes, but he can’t, and he’s resentful, hateful, even of the fact that it’s not him who caused it.

But he will not give up yet. He will be there as Yuri’s best friend until the minute he no longer has to be, and even then he will probably linger.

The rings are exchanged. The words have been said. The crowd of people gathered to watch erupt into applause and cheering, and even Otabek manages a smile. He can feel his face curving into the unfamiliar position. He is upset for himself, yes, but Yuri is happy. He’s smiling wider than Otabek has ever seen, and he even lets Fumie tuck a tiger lily in beside the braid in his hair. If that’s not proof that he’s happy, then Otabek doesn’t know what is.

He is more beautiful than Otabek has ever seen him.

The six of them - the couple, Ivan, the kids, and Otabek - follow after the officiant down the central aisle.

Otabek has to watch as they sign the paperwork, and neatly sign his own name beside it. He’s an official witness, now.

And then, then it’s time for the guests to have a mill about and have champagne and wander the grounds of the manor - because it really was a lovely place - while the main wedding party and certain guests got photographs taken.

They try to get the kids’ photographs out of the way first. There’s an adorable one of them holding hands beside one of the trees in the main gardens, and an even cuter one of Yuri holding Fumie while Dmitri clings to his leg. They have one all together, and one with Yuri’s grandfather, and then the rest of the family start joining in. Then it’s Alexei’s family, and then everyone all together.

Yuri insists on having at least one photo with just him and Otabek. Otabek chooses not to remind Yuri that he isn’t very good at smiling for photographs.

They wind up trying to make it as candid as is possible though unlike earlier it’s painfully obvious that there’s a photographer nearby. Or maybe Otabek is just on high alert after the battle he had to go through. They wander the grounds, chit-chatting like nothing has changed. For a while, Otabek is able to pretend it hasn’t.  

The photographer seems happy, so they force a posed photo in the rose gardens, the two of them standing back to back like it’s meant to be some kind of film poster. Yuri insists on taking a selfie, too, uploading it immediately. Otabek is grateful that he manages to hold it together long enough to let it be taken.

**_#bestman #bestfriend_ **

Otabek has never wanted to get away from a situation so badly, except perhaps when he ran out of the kiss and cry last year. Photographs are not his forte, and taking photos with the man he adores and can’t have is a special kind of torture.

He is all too happy to leave when Alexei comes back for his turn getting photographs taken. It’s about the only time he’s ever been happy to leave Yuri behind.

The rest of the afternoon is filled with talking to guests, and making sure everything runs as it is supposed to. He plays with the children for a while. It’s impossible to be too upset when there’s an adorable four year old girl insisting on playing hide and seek and hiding in the most obvious of spaces. Yuuri and Viktor watch from the sidelines. Yuuri sometimes looks like he’s about to say something important, but his daughter’s giggles seem to stop him before he ever does.

They start setting up for the dinner in the early evening. The guests are led into a large room, with lots of tables, and they’re guided to where the table plan has placed them.

Yuri’s grandfather and Alexei’s father insist on speeches before dinner. They’re short and sweet, and they’re mostly just hoping everyone’s had a nice day so far, thanking them for coming and the like.

Dinner is served as soon as they finish talking. The food is probably good, but Otabek feels like he’s lost all sense of taste, so he just forces it down and tries not to think too hard about it.

The cake gets cut, for dessert, and slices are passed around the room. It’s almost time.

Dinner is over. The alcohol is being distributed. Yuri and Alexei both take turns to speak to the room, though it’s short and sweet and mostly just echoing their family from earlier, thanking everyone for coming to celebrate with them. Alexei’s brother goes next, and it’s more of the same, with a couple of embarrassing stories thrown in about Alexei as a child.

And then it is Otabek’s turn. He’s never been able to hold a crowd’s attention, but he has to try.

“This is the last speech, I promise,” There’s a chuckle around the room. He’s off to a good start. “Again, I’d just like to thank everyone for making the effort to be here. I know it means a lot to Yuri and Alexei.”

He stops, has to take a breath. He glances at the notes he’s made on the card in his hands. He can’t see them too well. His eyes are blurry for some reason. “I first met Yuri when I was twelve, at a training camp in Russia. I wasn’t there for long, though, and we didn’t meet again until the Grand Prix final - the one that he won, first time. It was good to see him again, though it was _immediately_ apparent that he had no idea who I was any more. So that was kind of awkward.” Another chuckle. It could be worse.

He leaves out the part about Yuri’s soldier eyes. He leaves out the part where he fell in love with him.  

“After that we became pretty good friends. I don’t think we managed to go a week without talking in some capacity. He used to come and visit me in Almaty every so often, and I liked visiting Saint Petersburg.”

Another breath. Keep going. He can do this.

“Yuri is constantly surprising me. His routines are wonderful. The difference in demeanour on and off the ice is a sight to behold. He cares very fiercely about his friends though he’ll never admit to it out loud. He’s the kind of person who appears at your doorstep at three in the morning even though you live in a completely different country.” He can’t help but smile at the memory. “But most of all, he’s my best friend, and I love him very dearly.”

Nobody had to know to what extent that last statement held true.

“In short,” He continued. He didn’t dare look down at Yuri. He knew that they loved each other, but Yuri’s was strictly platonic and would remain unspoken. “Yuri is a very good man, and if I say someone deserves his love then it’s one of the best compliments that I can give. Yuri and Alexei deserve each other, and I wish them many years of happiness together.”

He wants Yuri to be happy. Alexei is but a method of making him so.

“Now- if I could just get you all to make a toast to the couple.” He raises his own glass, gives a moment or two for the crowd to do the same. “To Yuri and Alexei!”

It’s tradition, Otabek had been told, that that everyone takes shots of vodka to toast with at Russian weddings, rather than glasses of champagne, and, once everyone’s downed their shot, the couple have to kiss. Until everyone’s decided to stop shouting ‘gorko’. It’s not something Otabek entirely understands, but the Russian family members and friends seem to be going with it, chanting echoing around the room.

Otabek can’t bring himself to look at the couple.

The room settles, and Otabek has to continue, has to push on even though he knows that just to his left there’s been some fairly sloppy kisses, based purely on the _noise._ “And another one; to everyone who’s come to celebrate today!”

Another shot. No making out this time, thankfully, and no chanting.

“And now, I do believe it’s time for everyone’s favourite part…” Yuri and Alexei are already on their feet, hand in hand, and strolling casually over to the dancefloor like nothing’s wrong. To them, there mustn’t be.

Otabek takes his seat without finishing his sentence. It’s obvious what’s happening.

The music starts. Yuri’s arms are around Alexei’s neck. Alexei’s are around Yuri’s waist. Otabek doesn’t watch any further, just endures the music and as soon as it’s over he’s on his feet and he leaves the room.

He goes into the first bathroom he can find. Otabek is not a weak man, but today has been particularly trying, and he feels no shame whatsoever in locking himself into a stall and just sitting there.

He isn’t really sure how long he’s in there, and he isn’t sure when the first tears start to fall, and he isn’t sure when it turns into full-blown sobbing but it does, it does. He wipes angrily at his eyes when he realises. This isn’t supposed to happen. This was never supposed to happen. It simply isn’t fair.

When he hears the door opening he does his best to calm down, but he can’t, it all just keeps coming out.

“Um,” Otabek knows that voice. He can’t place it at the moment. “Hello? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Don’t worry.” His voice is hoarse and strained.

“Otabek? Is that you?”

He’s tempted to say no, tempted to say he doesn’t even know who that is, but it’s a lie, and Otabek can’t lie, at least not very well. “Yes,” he winds up saying, furiously trying to wipe the remnants of the tears lying on his cheeks. More and more keep spilling out, and he can’t quite keep up with it.

“I thought so. The accent gave it away.” Yuuri Katsuki. _His_ accent betrays him, too. “Do you want to come out?”

What a loaded question. Come out. Come out of what? The stall? The stupid ‘I’m in love with Yuri’ closet he’d locked himself into? Not, perhaps, that Katsuki had any reason to know about the latter.

“Not really,” Is the answer, but he unlocks the door anyway. If anyone knows anything about getting upset and crying in bathrooms, it’s Katsuki. At least according to Yuri.

The door opens, and Otabek does his best not to look at his reflection in the mirror above the sinks opposite. He does not need to see himself to know that his eyes are red and puffy.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” Otabek’s voice is firm. He does not need comfort. He is too strong and too proud for that.

“Okay,” Katsuki looks almost a little uncomfortable, but that seemed to be his general state of existing, honestly, so that was no surprise. “Is it-”

“You’re going to insist on asking me questions, and I’m going to refuse to answer.” The tears are mostly gone. Mostly. Otabek sniffles and hates himself for it.

“That’s alright. I just don’t want you suffering on your own if I can do anything about it,” Katsuki elaborates, and it’s tempting, it’s so tempting, but he can’t, Otabek simply can’t give in this easily.

“I’m fine. Thank you.” The conversation is over. Otabek makes a move to go to the sink. He ought to splash his face with some clean water, maybe then he’ll feel better.

“It’s about Yuri, isn’t it?” He’s interrupted before he can even turn the tap on.

“What makes you say that?” Otabek does his best to keep his expression neutral. No use in giving away any needless information.

“Because the only time I’ve ever seen you display any kind of emotion is when something’s going on with him. So - am I wrong?” Katsuki has gotten braver over the years. He wouldn’t have dared say something like that when Otabek had first met him. Otabek doesn’t turn around to look at him, instead staring hard into the mirror.

“You’re not wrong.”

“Did he say something awful?”

“No.”

“Then what? Is it because of Alexei?” Yes. And no. It’s not Alexei specifically. It wouldn’t matter who it was, it never did.

Otabek doesn’t answer, but he can feel his expression wavering, and he knows Katsuki is going to take it as a sign of defeat. He chooses not to say anything, lest he put his foot in his mouth and prove Katsuki’s assumption right.

“It _is_ because of him, isn’t it?” Katsuki hasn’t waited for an answer. He’s made his assumption, and Otabek can see him connecting the dots in his head. “Do you not like him? No, wait, that’s not… Oh.”

Otabek says nothing.

“ _Oh,_ Otabek.” There it is. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

“I don’t know what you think you’ve figured out.” He’s right, he’s bound to be. Nobody would look at this situation and come up with any other conclusion.

“It’s just… From where I’m standing, it looks to me like you love him. And not just in a friendly way.”

Otabek says nothing. He’s never had the courage to admit his feelings out loud, to anyone, and now is not an exception.

“It’ll be okay.” Katsuki is quick to try and reassure him, but Otabek knows the truth. The facts are simple: it isn’t okay, and it’s never going to _be_ okay.

He turns, facing Katsuki properly, and the facade drops. There is no point in pretending with someone who knows the truth. “I don’t want to talk about it more than I must.”

“Does Yuri know?” Of course that’s the first question.

“Of course he doesn’t. He wouldn’t have asked me to help with today if he did.”

Katsuki seems to contemplate this answer for a while, and then he settles for throwing his arms around Otabek very briefly, before taking him by the arm. “Come on. You’re not allowed to mope around in here on your own. You’re going to try and enjoy the party with me and Viktor and the kids.”

Otabek is in no position to argue.

 

~

 

The rest of the night is a blur. Otabek remembers drinking a glass or two of champagne, but beyond that, things are hazy. There was music, and dancing, and maybe a line of shots at some point. 

He isn’t sure. There’s only one thing he’s sure of, and it’s the fact that his head is pounding. He doesn’t have any painkillers, so he will have to endure.

He looks at the clock. It’s mid-afternoon already. He shouldn’t have listened to Katsuki.

He debates ordering room service, and decides that his stomach won’t handle it. He debates getting up for a shower. He looks at his phone. Three notifications and a text. He’ll deal with it later.

He forces himself out of bed. He walks on weak legs into the bathroom. He doesn’t normally sleep naked, but apparently last night was an exception to a lot of things. He steps into the shower, and turns the spray on. It’s cold against his skin, but it’s nothing, really. He can’t feel much of anything this morning apart from pain.

It could be five minutes under the water or it could be fifty. He’s not sure. He keeps thinking over everything that happened yesterday, at least that he can remember. It keeps going back to Yuri. Yuri. Yuri. Yuri. Everything is about him, in the end.

He cleans himself off as best he can, and he’s almost feeling a little better. Maybe he could stomach some breakfast after all. He turns the water off, and there’s a fluffy towel on the heated rail just outside the shower, and he reaches for it, wrapping it around his waist.

He pads back out into the main room, and reaches for his phone. Text, first, from Yuri. Who else ever bothered to contact him?

_Thanks for yesterday. Loved the speech._

Stupid. What else did he expect? Yuri wasn’t someone who usually went for sentimental crap. Of course it was going to be a generic thank-you text.

There were three instagram notifications, though. Probably photos tagged from last night.

The first was with Viktor and Yuuri. Sweet, but nothing special.

**_#party_ **

The second is fairly tame too.. A group shot of all the skaters they’d managed to round up. Nice for some memories, he supposes, if he were capable of remembering it beyond being told ‘this happened’ via a photograph he was definitely in.

**_#friends #skating_ **

He opens the third rather more cautiously. It was Yuri himself who had tagged this one. Not Viktor, not Mila. Yuri.

It’s just the two of them. Yuri’s looking at the camera, a genuine smile on his face again. His hair is much less tidy than it had been earlier in the day; his braid is half gone, and there are flyaways all over the place, but he still looks beautiful. He always does.

Otabek, meanwhile, is left looking at a photo of himself that he fears betrays everything he worked so hard to hide. He hasn’t bothered to look at the camera. He’s fallen into his usual trap of letting his eyes always find Yuri’s face and it shows, it shows up so much worse in a photograph than it ever does in real life. But he’s smiling. Probably because he was too drunk to care any more and he was just happy to get attention from the person he cares for most.

He checks the tags on the photo. It’s impulse, now.

 

**_#bestfriends_ **

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> If you made it to here: congratulations! 
> 
> I had so much fun writing this, and I can't thank my cheerleaders enough. They know who they are. 
> 
> If you want to keep up to date with my writing efforts, or scream at me because of feelings or anything else, feel free to hit me up on my tumblr. Feedback fuels the inspiration!


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